Mistaken Identity
by Sunrize
Summary: Ezra had drank, fought, and nearly died beside the man for over a year, yet now he had the uncomfortable feeling he'd only scratched the surface. A few printed lines on a page suddenly revealed a depth of mind and heart he'd never dreamed existed. Episode tag for Achilles.


"Good afternoon, Mr. Standish."

"Ladies." A tip of his hat and a wink set both lovely  
>Claremont sisters to blushing. Amelia-or was it Rose, he<br>could never remember who was who-clutched her sister's  
>arm and giggled as they hurried past.<p>

Ezra leaned against the porch railing, enjoying the warmth  
>of the sun on his shoulders and the satisfying weight of a<br>good meal in his belly. Now for some whiskey and a game  
>of chance. The world had righted itself after the distressing<br>turmoil of the last few days: Mr. Dunne was back in the  
>sheriff's office and Big Lester Bangs had taken the last<br>stage out of town. Ergo Ezra Standish could get back to  
>what he did best-fleecing the marks in this town out of<br>some cash.

He took a step off the boardwalk to cross the street but  
>nearly collided with Mary Travis, who was carrying a large<br>armful of papers. She gasped and stumbled backward, feet  
>tangling in her long skirt, and would have gone down if<br>Ezra hadn't caught her arm. As it was, several of the papers  
>drifted to the ground.<p>

"My apologies, Mrs. Travis." Ezra retrieved the fallen  
>papers-copies of <em>The Clarion<em>-and brushed off the dirt  
>before handing them to her. "I didn't mean to startle you."<p>

"It's all right, Mr. Standish, I should have been more careful  
>to look where I was going." She tucked a stray wisp of<br>golden hair behind her ear. "I've been working all morning  
>on this issue and I wanted to bring some copies over to the<br>folks at the hotel as soon as possible. Keep one," she urged,  
>accepted the rest from him. "It's hot off the press."<p>

Ezra touched two fingers to the brim of his hat, watching her  
>make her way into the hotel, passing out the newspaper to<br>folks as she went. Couldn't be easy, keeping that little paper  
>going in this deplorable backwater town. But the woman<br>was nothing if not determined. Or how did Mr. Tanner put it  
>in his oh-so-eloquent manner? Ah, yes-full of piss and<br>vinegar. Such a way with words, their Vin. Ezra smirked and  
>shook his head.<p>

Speaking of which . . .

Ezra looked down at the paper in hands as a forgotten  
>conversation popped back into his head.<p>

_"Mary's putting some poetry in her paper, and, uh-"_

_"That's nice."_

_"I was wonderin' if, well, since you have such nice _  
><em>handwriting and all, would you mind, once you sober up . . . <em>  
><em>writing down my poem for me, all nice and pretty-like?"<em>

Ezra scanned the printed page, his smirk widening to a grin  
>when he found the headline FIRST ANNUAL TERRITORY<br>POETRY CONTEST. "Why, Mr. Tanner, I must admit you  
>surprise me. I can only imagine what lyrical delights a man<br>of your intellectual refinement has to share with us."

Locating Vin's offering-"A Hero's Heart"-among the other  
>entrants, Ezra began to read . . . and stopped. Checked to be<br>sure he had the right poem. And read it again, this time to  
>the end.<p>

"There's been a mistake."

He said it aloud, annoyed. He'd been prepared for a bit of  
>hilarity, after all, not to be moved by a piece of writing that<br>was simple and poignant and, well, lovely.

And there was simply no way Vin Tanner, who wore a  
>buffalo hide coat, slept in a wagon, and had the manners to<br>match, wrote it.

Clutching the paper in his fist, he turned and strode into the  
>hotel. Mary broke off her conversation with the desk clerk<br>when he waved her over.

"Is something wrong?" She studied his face.

Ezra inclined his head. "I regret to inform you that there is  
>an error in your publication."<p>

"An error?"

"One of the poems entered into your contest has been  
>attributed to the wrong author. A situation I'm certain the<br>true bard will find quite distressing."

Frowning, Mary shook her head. "I went over the copy very  
>carefully. I'm sure you're wrong."<p>

"I beg to differ, dear lady." Ezra pointed to the offending  
>byline. "You've listed Mr. Tanner as the author of 'A Hero's<br>Heart.'" He chuckled and shook his head. "I think we can  
>both agree that a man whose normal method of expression<br>involves phrases such as 'like lickin' butter off a knife' is  
>hardly capable of composing verse of that nature."<p>

To Ezra's astonishment, Mary's blue eyes turned cold and  
>hard. "Let me assure you, Mr. Standish, that Vin Tanner is<br>an accomplished poet. And as far as the poem in question?  
>He recited 'A Hero's Heart' from memory to me, and I wrote it<br>down for him."

Ezra opened his mouth but found he couldn't form words-  
>an unusual occurrence. Mind racing, he darted his eyes<br>between the printed words in his hand and Mary's angry  
>face.<p>

_"I was wonderin' if, well, since you have such nice _  
><em>handwriting and all, would you mind, once you sober up . . . <em>  
><em>writing down my poem for me, all nice and pretty-like?"<em>

_"You wrote a poem?"_

_"I knew I was wasting my time with you."_

Shame flushed Ezra's cheeks. He'd laughed when Vin had  
>asked him for help transcribing his poem, so certain it would<br>be no more than a joke. Undeserving of his time. And Vin  
>had gone to Mary instead.<p>

Not only gone to Mary but produced a piece of poetry more  
>than worthy of a place in the contest. In fact, looking at it<br>beside the other entries . . . Vin could _win_.

But what really left him reeling was the sudden realization  
>that there was so much more to Vin Tanner than he knew.<br>Ezra had drunk, fought, and nearly died beside the man for  
>over a year, yet now he had the uncomfortable feeling he'd<br>only scratched the surface. A few printed lines on a page  
>suddenly revealed a depth of mind and heart he'd never<br>dreamed existed.

"It appears perhaps I've been mistaken," he said aloud. It  
>was meant to sound magnanimous, but somehow regret<br>seeped in and choked the words.

"Yes. Yes you have." Mary studied his face. "And about  
>more than just the poem, I think."<p>

Damn the woman, always pushing just a little further,  
>digging a little deeper. "Yes, well, I apologize for the<br>confusion. If you'll excuse me, I . . . ah . . . have some  
>important business I should attend to as soon as possible."<p>

Mary tipped her head, a slight curve to her lips. "I  
>understand, of course; don't let me keep you from it. I still<br>need to finish delivering these copies."

Embarrassingly pleased that the ire had faded from her  
>demeanor, Ezra headed for the door. He'd only taken a few<br>steps, however, when she called after him.

"Wait a moment, Ezra."

He froze at the uncharacteristic use of his first name and  
>slowly turned. "Ma'am?" A little startled, he saw her eyes<br>were filled with sadness.

"I just wanted to say . . . I can guarantee you aren't the only  
>one who hasn't bothered to look past a lack of education<br>and that buffalo hide coat," Mary said quietly. "I doubt very  
>much he's given whatever you did a second thought."<p>

The truth of her words twisted and cut inside him like barbed  
>wire. Ezra swallowed hard and met her gaze. "But I am not<br>like all the others. Taking into account my, shall we say . . .  
>profession, I believe I've developed certain skills beyond<br>that of the common man. To that end, I consider myself a  
>devoted student of human nature and an astute judge of<br>character. In short . . . I expect more from myself." He sighed.  
>"As should Vin."<p>

"I'm not the way they see me, not who they think I am." The  
>words were soft, barely audible, as if Mary were murmuring<br>them to herself.

"What?" Ezra asked sharply.

She shook her head. "Never mind. The point is that we all  
>have our secrets, the parts of us the world doesn't see. For<br>instance, who'd believe Ezra Standish, the man only  
>interested in something if it can turn a profit, would find<br>himself consumed by making things right with a friend?"

Okay, now the infuriating busybody was going too far. "Mrs.  
>Travis. Mary. I never said-"<p>

She grinned-_grinned_ at him! "No, you never did. But it's  
>getting late. I'd best let you get on with your important<br>business."

"Likewise, I'm certain there are many good people in need of  
>your excellent publication," Ezra agreed, ignoring the way<br>she stressed "important business" and the twinkle in her  
>eyes. "Good afternoon."<p>

"Good afternoon. And Ezra?"

"Yes?"

"Say hello to Vin for me."

Any good conman has to recognize when he's beaten. Ezra  
>touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and strode out of<br>the hotel into the sunshine.

Bested by a woman. He arched an eyebrow, scanning the  
>street. Since this day was already proving to be the<br>equivalent of a pair of twos, he might as well go ahead and  
>get the rest over with. Brushing a piece of lint off his red<br>jacket, Ezra squared his shoulders and went to find Vin.


End file.
